Resurrection by Davis Siobhan

Author:Davis, Siobhan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

I stand in the center of the muddy pit, in the pitch-dark, in my now filthy pajamas, shivering and shaking from the cold and uncontrollable rage. I listen to the guys laughing and joking as they saunter off, leaving me to my fate, and I want to tear those assholes limb from limb and feed them to the wolves when they come hunting. But my furious thoughts aren’t going to help me escape, and I don’t plan on spending long down here.

First, I hurl the lumps of bloody raw meat out of the pit, one at a time, offering silent thanks that Dad got me interested in kickboxing at sixteen. Between classes and regular bouts with the punching bag in our basement gym, I have decent strength in my arms. Enough that I can toss the stinking piles of wolf bait out of the pit and away from me. I don’t think I’ve thrown them far though, and the scent will most likely carry on the breeze, so I need to get my ass out of here stat.

Ignoring the icky feel of slimy bones under my feet, I scale the perimeter of the small pit, using my hands to explore the muddy walls for anything to grip on to, but I can’t find any markings I can use to climb out of here. The mud is quite soft to the touch, almost clay-like in substance, as if they built this pit on purpose solely to drive me demented.

I pace the small clear space in the middle of the pit, racking my brains for a solution.

When it comes to me, I almost throw up.

Adrenaline courses through my veins, and bile swims up my throat, but I can’t identify any other plan, and even though I don’t know if this will work, I’ve got to try.

I attack the wall I climbed down using my long nails to dig, pulling clumps of mud away. When I’ve gouged a deep enough hole, I swallow my distaste as I crouch down, tentatively reaching out and grabbing the first bone I feel. I don’t think about the fact this belonged to a living, breathing being at one point in time, focusing on the fact I need to get out of here before my bones join this gruesome collection.

I wedge the bone into the hole I’ve dug, covering it with the clay-like mud, but leaving the end part jutting out just enough to climb on. I pack the mud around the edges, compacting it as tightly as I can, and then I repeat the process, lining bones up in a crisscross pattern, choosing bigger, wider bones for my feet and smaller ones for my hands to grip onto. I go as high as I can reach, hoping that I can close that final gap using my hands and pull myself the rest of the way up.

I’m covered in mud and sweat after my exertions, but at least, I’m no longer shivering.

Here goes nothing. I start to

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